Once upon a time I made a goal of reading all the books on The Modern Library's list of 100 Best Novels of All Time. Then, I realized that the list doesn't contain many of the books I consider to be the best novels of all time (To Kill a Mockingbird, The Outsiders, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Beloved, The Color Purple, etc.). Some of those books are on the "Reader's Picks" list, as well as some other authors that were overlooked by the Modern Library's Board, such as Ayn Rand.
What do all of those excluded books have in common? They were all written by women! Is the board sexist? I think so. J.K. Rowling at least deserves an honorable mention! Jane Austin and the Bronte sisters are missing from the list because it only includes books published after 1900. But, I find it hard to believe that some of the others aren't included.
I also have a beef with Rolling Stone's list of The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. They put Tiny Dancer as number 397, and I think it clearly belongs in the top 10.
Note to all listmakers: please consult me first, because you are probably wrong.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
He's in touch with his feminine side
While shopping, Matt not only found some cute pants for me, but found the right size and a pair that was on sale. I was very happy, because a lot of men aren't good shoppers and he was being a great sport. Then, something happened...
(a song starts playing)
Matt: Ooohh!! It's Madonna! (starts bobbing his head) Borderline! Wait a second, it's "Open Your Heart." I know! It's the Glee cast singing Madonna! It's a remix!
Me: I think you mean "mash-up."
Matt: Yeah, it's a mash-up!
Do I need to take him to some sort of sporting event?
(a song starts playing)
Matt: Ooohh!! It's Madonna! (starts bobbing his head) Borderline! Wait a second, it's "Open Your Heart." I know! It's the Glee cast singing Madonna! It's a remix!
Me: I think you mean "mash-up."
Matt: Yeah, it's a mash-up!
Do I need to take him to some sort of sporting event?
Friday, May 28, 2010
Writer's block!
I've been trying to plan my next speech all week, with no success. Topics that are apparently off-limits at Toastmasters include making fun of the following: eating disorders, abortions, domestic violence, substance abuse.
What am I going to talk about??!?!?
What am I going to talk about??!?!?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Toastmistress
Back in February I joined Toastmasters, an international club that helps people become better public speakers. Today, I finally did my first speech, the "Ice Breakers" speech. The only purpose of the Ice Breakers speech is to introduce yourself and begin speaking in front of an audience. I thought I was going to kill it, but there were a few awkward moments when no one laughed at my jokes. Overall, I give myself a B. Here's my speech:
Fellow Toastmasters and Distinguished guests,
My name is Brianna, and I am a nerd. I was destined to be a nerd because I was born on one of the nerdiest possible days, March 14, 1984. It is the day that would have been the Albert Einstein’s 105th birthday, which is also known as “Pi day” to math geeks everywhere, because the date is 3.14. And though there are many nerdy things about me, perhaps the most distinctive is the fact that I am a word nerd.
My love of words goes back to when I started my first journal at the age of five. From that age it was clear that I was a phonetic genius, writing about my “rood mom” --rude spelled R-O-O-D-- and my dog Daisy--spelled D-A-Z-Y.
Or perhaps my parents are to credit for my word-nerdiness. In our household we had a list of forbidden words: kill, die, and hate. When fighting with my brother I wasn’t allowed to say “I want to kill you,” or “I hate you.” But, “you’re a dingleberry/wildebeest/hemorrhoid/vomit face“ was perfectly acceptable. By putting limitations on my vocabulary, my parents forced us to be more creative with our insults.
And these insults often found their way into the pages of my journal. When I was five I wrote about my cute puppy and adorable baby sister, but when I was 13, I wrote about my stinky old dog that needed walked and bathed, and my stupid, annoying, bratty little sister.
By the time I got to high school, my little sister was no longer stupid and annoying—those terms were reserved for my parents. It’s a story you’ve all heard before; like the typical teen, I wanted a later curfew, fewer chores, and I didn’t want to drive my younger siblings to school. But I wasn’t a typical teen. What my journal didn’t say was that I started a reading club in the school’s library, was the captain of the Math Bowl team, and attended a writing workshop with middle-aged hippie women in the desert. Needless to say, my phone wasn’t ringing off the hook with invitations to the prom. But, the pages in my journal were filling up.
It was only natural that when I went to college I would pick a major related to writing. I majored in English at Westminster College, but at that point in my life I didn’t have a lot of time for writing in a journal—I had bigger priorities in life, like learning how to take tequila shots and attempting to get into frat parties at the U. But, I did submit a short story to a literature conference in a desperate attempt to meet the keynote speaker, Kurt Vonnegut Jr. So, I created a story inspired by one of my friends' childhood stories. It was about a little girl who got the flu and stuffed toilet paper up her nose to keep it from running. In my story, when the girl bent down to sniff a scented candle, the toilet paper caught on fire and burned off her nose and she had to get a prosthetic nose. I thought it was a fine display of black humor, and it even got a few laughs. And when I say “a few,” I mean one or two laughs. Regardless, Kurt Vonnegut ended up canceling, but I did get to meet Norman Mailer. For those of you who don’t know, they’re both dead now.
But my writing career did not end there. While I was in college I worked for the Salt Lake Tribune as a newsroom assistant, a job title also known as “secretary,” “office slave” or “resident scapegoat.” One day the newspaper was short on freelance writers, so I volunteered for the job and wrote a story about grills. No, I’m not referring to the charcoal or gas-powered cooking appliances; I’m talking about diamond encrusted mouthpieces worn by rap musicians. I know you’re probably thinking there is no possible way my journalism career could have gotten any better. But you’re wrong.
The high point in my career was when I got my first front page story, what we in the newspaper business call “steak-sauce” because it’s on page A1. My story was about a local woman who found a rat head in a can of green beans. But that’s not even the best part. When I finally scored an interview with the representative from the green bean company, he claimed the rat head would be safe to eat because it was cooked in the can and rendered commercially sterile. The company was Allen Canning, in case you’re wondering which green beans to avoid.
Soon, I found out what all newspaper employees eventually learn—it’s impossible to live off of minimum wage. So, I jumped ship and found my true calling in life—librarianship. In 2008 in the span of two months, I quit my job, got married, and moved across the country to South Carolina to attend graduate school to get my Masters in Library and Information Science. It was the perfect career choice for me, because I love books, cardigan sweaters, and telling people to shut up. One year later, my husband Matt got laid off from his job in Carolina. His former company in Utah offered him his old job back, so we returned to Utah in a move Matt equated to being held back a grade.
I found work with an IT research company. Even though I don’t get to read books to kids or shush noisy people, I get to help our clients find the information they need, so I enjoy my job. I finished grad school three weeks ago, and my goal for the next few months is to read, knit, and be as lazy as possible. And of course, learn to be a better speaker through Toastmasters. Thank you.
For my second speech, I need to focus on organization. I'll need to make an introduction, main points, then a conclusion. I was thinking about this as a topic:
How to lose friends and alienate your fellow Toastmasters (and distinguished guests)
Step 1: Mention tequila shots in your first speech.
Step 2: Do not laugh or smile at speeches that start with "At Fireside last week" or "When I was on my mission."
Step 3: Walk away quickly after speaking, leaving the podium unattended as much as possible.
In case you didn't figure it out, I made all three of those faux pas at Toastmasters in the past two weeks.
Fellow Toastmasters and Distinguished guests,
My name is Brianna, and I am a nerd. I was destined to be a nerd because I was born on one of the nerdiest possible days, March 14, 1984. It is the day that would have been the Albert Einstein’s 105th birthday, which is also known as “Pi day” to math geeks everywhere, because the date is 3.14. And though there are many nerdy things about me, perhaps the most distinctive is the fact that I am a word nerd.
My love of words goes back to when I started my first journal at the age of five. From that age it was clear that I was a phonetic genius, writing about my “rood mom” --rude spelled R-O-O-D-- and my dog Daisy--spelled D-A-Z-Y.
Or perhaps my parents are to credit for my word-nerdiness. In our household we had a list of forbidden words: kill, die, and hate. When fighting with my brother I wasn’t allowed to say “I want to kill you,” or “I hate you.” But, “you’re a dingleberry/wildebeest/hemorrhoid/vomit face“ was perfectly acceptable. By putting limitations on my vocabulary, my parents forced us to be more creative with our insults.
And these insults often found their way into the pages of my journal. When I was five I wrote about my cute puppy and adorable baby sister, but when I was 13, I wrote about my stinky old dog that needed walked and bathed, and my stupid, annoying, bratty little sister.
By the time I got to high school, my little sister was no longer stupid and annoying—those terms were reserved for my parents. It’s a story you’ve all heard before; like the typical teen, I wanted a later curfew, fewer chores, and I didn’t want to drive my younger siblings to school. But I wasn’t a typical teen. What my journal didn’t say was that I started a reading club in the school’s library, was the captain of the Math Bowl team, and attended a writing workshop with middle-aged hippie women in the desert. Needless to say, my phone wasn’t ringing off the hook with invitations to the prom. But, the pages in my journal were filling up.
It was only natural that when I went to college I would pick a major related to writing. I majored in English at Westminster College, but at that point in my life I didn’t have a lot of time for writing in a journal—I had bigger priorities in life, like learning how to take tequila shots and attempting to get into frat parties at the U. But, I did submit a short story to a literature conference in a desperate attempt to meet the keynote speaker, Kurt Vonnegut Jr. So, I created a story inspired by one of my friends' childhood stories. It was about a little girl who got the flu and stuffed toilet paper up her nose to keep it from running. In my story, when the girl bent down to sniff a scented candle, the toilet paper caught on fire and burned off her nose and she had to get a prosthetic nose. I thought it was a fine display of black humor, and it even got a few laughs. And when I say “a few,” I mean one or two laughs. Regardless, Kurt Vonnegut ended up canceling, but I did get to meet Norman Mailer. For those of you who don’t know, they’re both dead now.
But my writing career did not end there. While I was in college I worked for the Salt Lake Tribune as a newsroom assistant, a job title also known as “secretary,” “office slave” or “resident scapegoat.” One day the newspaper was short on freelance writers, so I volunteered for the job and wrote a story about grills. No, I’m not referring to the charcoal or gas-powered cooking appliances; I’m talking about diamond encrusted mouthpieces worn by rap musicians. I know you’re probably thinking there is no possible way my journalism career could have gotten any better. But you’re wrong.
The high point in my career was when I got my first front page story, what we in the newspaper business call “steak-sauce” because it’s on page A1. My story was about a local woman who found a rat head in a can of green beans. But that’s not even the best part. When I finally scored an interview with the representative from the green bean company, he claimed the rat head would be safe to eat because it was cooked in the can and rendered commercially sterile. The company was Allen Canning, in case you’re wondering which green beans to avoid.
Soon, I found out what all newspaper employees eventually learn—it’s impossible to live off of minimum wage. So, I jumped ship and found my true calling in life—librarianship. In 2008 in the span of two months, I quit my job, got married, and moved across the country to South Carolina to attend graduate school to get my Masters in Library and Information Science. It was the perfect career choice for me, because I love books, cardigan sweaters, and telling people to shut up. One year later, my husband Matt got laid off from his job in Carolina. His former company in Utah offered him his old job back, so we returned to Utah in a move Matt equated to being held back a grade.
I found work with an IT research company. Even though I don’t get to read books to kids or shush noisy people, I get to help our clients find the information they need, so I enjoy my job. I finished grad school three weeks ago, and my goal for the next few months is to read, knit, and be as lazy as possible. And of course, learn to be a better speaker through Toastmasters. Thank you.
For my second speech, I need to focus on organization. I'll need to make an introduction, main points, then a conclusion. I was thinking about this as a topic:
How to lose friends and alienate your fellow Toastmasters (and distinguished guests)
Step 1: Mention tequila shots in your first speech.
Step 2: Do not laugh or smile at speeches that start with "At Fireside last week" or "When I was on my mission."
Step 3: Walk away quickly after speaking, leaving the podium unattended as much as possible.
In case you didn't figure it out, I made all three of those faux pas at Toastmasters in the past two weeks.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Racial stereotyping at its worst
Matt and I recently made a trip to the downtown library, my favorite branch. While there, we saw a shocking display of books geared towards helping the formerly incarcerated get jobs. What's wrong with this picture?
All of the books had black guys in the forefront! Are they trying to tell us that only black people go to jail?
All of the books had black guys in the forefront! Are they trying to tell us that only black people go to jail?
Monday, March 22, 2010
A post about vegetables and math
Has it really been a month and a half since I last posted? I haven't had anything good to blog about lately, so I will bore you all with a post about my latest fascination: romanesco broccoli.
I saw this creepy-yet-beautiful veggie in my co-worker's seed catalog, and was drawn to it. Laura Anderson from the New York Times food blog describes it best as "the lovechild of cauliflower and broccoli with some alien DNA thrown in." I didn't really care about its taste; I'm far too nerdy for that. Instead, I immediately wondered if its spiral design followed the Fibonacci sequence.
For those of you who aren't huge nerds, the Fibonacci sequence is a pattern of numbers that is often found in nature. Matt says that is because it is the most efficient sequence. It's found in pinecones, sunflowers, artichokes, and the beach in Half Moon Bay, California. If you want to geek out, you can read about it on Wikipedia. The broccoli is also an example of a fractal, because all those little knobby things are exact replicas of the big knobby things. I am sure there are more technical ways to describe it, but I'm not a mathematician--that's Matt's role in this relationship.
Foodies say that romanesco broccoli has a soft and slightly nutty flavor. Would you try it?
I saw this creepy-yet-beautiful veggie in my co-worker's seed catalog, and was drawn to it. Laura Anderson from the New York Times food blog describes it best as "the lovechild of cauliflower and broccoli with some alien DNA thrown in." I didn't really care about its taste; I'm far too nerdy for that. Instead, I immediately wondered if its spiral design followed the Fibonacci sequence.
For those of you who aren't huge nerds, the Fibonacci sequence is a pattern of numbers that is often found in nature. Matt says that is because it is the most efficient sequence. It's found in pinecones, sunflowers, artichokes, and the beach in Half Moon Bay, California. If you want to geek out, you can read about it on Wikipedia. The broccoli is also an example of a fractal, because all those little knobby things are exact replicas of the big knobby things. I am sure there are more technical ways to describe it, but I'm not a mathematician--that's Matt's role in this relationship.
Foodies say that romanesco broccoli has a soft and slightly nutty flavor. Would you try it?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Things that annoy me: sign language
I don't have anything against deaf people, but I do have something against non-deaf people who feel the need to perform inspirational songs in sign language. It's really annoying, you guys. No one gives a shit if you know the signs to "The Greatest Love of All" or "Wind Beneath My Wings." What do they expect to happen?
Wow, I was a crack-addicted deaf teenaged gutter-slut, but someone told me in sign language that "children are the future" and I was inspired to turn my life around.
Non-deaf people signing is only acceptable in Drop Dead Gorgeous, one of the funniest movies of all time.
I'd like to see someone do a sign language version of "Straight Outta Compton." The only sign language I know are gang signs and the middle finger, and I think both would fit in nicely with that song.
Wow, I was a crack-addicted deaf teenaged gutter-slut, but someone told me in sign language that "children are the future" and I was inspired to turn my life around.
Non-deaf people signing is only acceptable in Drop Dead Gorgeous, one of the funniest movies of all time.
I'd like to see someone do a sign language version of "Straight Outta Compton." The only sign language I know are gang signs and the middle finger, and I think both would fit in nicely with that song.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)